Here comes the insecurity followed by the redemption followed by the celebration of a work week completed. For me, Monday equals Friday. I've already explained my weird hours, and I'll reiterate my even stranger days. Of work, that is.
Yes, late nights, yes, usually Thursday through Monday. Monday, however, is the day that I actually work from 9am to 5:30pm. Regardless of how late I stay on Sunday night, I am scheduled to work at 9am on Monday morning. Sometimes this means that I only get about 6 hours of sleep at best before heading back to the hospital.
Anyhow, I went in this morning and we were SLAMMED all day. I had a ten minute lunch, only to inhale sustenance enough to propel me through my shift. I think I did no less than 25 exams today. That's 25 different patients, having either x-rays, fluoroscopic procedures, or CT scans. Oh yeah, and also surgical requests.
Today I made the mistake of answering the department phone when I had a patient on the table. This isn't rude or disrespectful, as I had already completed the diagnostic requisition for this patient and was waiting for the images to process and appear on my computer screen. The phone is next to my workstation, and the patient is in the same room.
I fielded the STAT request from the OR to take another x-ray in surgery. I sent my patient on his/her way and headed down to the OR.
Well, I went down and let me tell you that just entering the OR takes a good 5 minute pre-session of changing into surgical scrubs and hat, mask and booties all the while hoping you're not going to enter the suite and see the awful Yeti Surgeon (as I call him) whom my whole department fears and hates working with. Thankfully, the Yeti wasn't present.
Anything done in the surgical suite is always high stress; not to take away from the heinous traumas that occasionally pop up a couple of times a week in the ER. Surgery is different, though. In the actual Operating Room, there are no less than 8 people present by the time I arrive, including the patient. There are usually two surgeons, one anesthesiologist, several surgical and scrub nurses and always there are product reps. The rooms are usually pretty small, and about 35% of the room is covered in sterile draping. Sterile draping is blue, and it is a color we learn to avoid as though it were a flaming poker. That boardgame 'Operation' best depicts how I feel when I'm in the OR. I have to enter that room with a big portable x-ray machine and myself...which makes 9 people and one more huge piece of equipment in the room. I was quick to arrive to this call, and was told by the scrub nurse that I should just sit to the side (of where?!?) and wait for my cue to shoot the x-ray. I told them that we were really busy upstairs with ER patients, and the surgeon DEMANDED that I wait there to get his x-ray. So I waited...I saw the patient as he was cleaned and draped for the procedure. I saw everyone take their places as the procedure began. I smelled the familiar scent of burning flesh as the operation began, and I was hopeful that I would be able to shoot my x-ray SOON. After all of that, I waited an extra 39 minutes. During that time, I was seated on a stool, trying to keep 'invisible', and waiting for my cue.
Surgeons are usually a-holes, and I am using that watered-down term NICELY. Some of them are actually pretty cool, but a whole hell of a lot of them are dictators. And they should be: I wouldn't want a mealy-mousy surgeon guessing whether or not he should cut here or there. I respect surgeons. I mostly wish they would return that sentiment. Which brings me to the next part of my day.
The surgeon finally called out “X-ray!!!” and I motored into position. With this big x-ray machine, in this tiny, sterile environment, I maneuvered it and myself into place. The surgeon actually placed my cassette for me, and he angled it in a strange way that I knew wasn’t going to work. I told him that I couldn’t have an drastic angle on the cassette if I was using a grid (technical speak), and he said that he wanted the image right there. I angled my tube and cleared the room to shoot the x-ray.
I ran out to process it and it came out completely UNUSABLE. Partially because of his request for a weird angle, and mostly because of my incorrect calculation of radiation needed to provide a good shot. So I went back into the OR and pulled up on the giant flat screen monitor the x-ray I just took. The whole group in the room was visibly (even with MASKS ON) disappointed in the x-ray. The surgeon and his assistant said “We have to re-shoot” and off I went. We did everything the same way, except for when the surgeon and I came to terms on exactly how the x-ray should be shot. He stopped angling the cassette, I centered everything as it should be, and I punched in a different calculation of radiation to penetrate the patient.
It came out perfectly. I was so relieved! I ran back into the OR and popped the image up for the whole group. The anesthesiologist looked at me (remember, we’re all wearing masks and we can only read each other’s eyes) after he saw my excellent x-ray and he was smiling behind his mask. I made a “whew’” motion of wiping my forehead and he laughed. The next thing I knew, the surgical scrub nurse said, ”Doctor, here’s your image”. I stood next to the surgeon and waited for his eyes to catch mine behind our masks. He looked at me and said, ”You redeemed yourself.”
I got my ass out of there ASAP and spent the rest of the day in CT. And when I got home, I opened a bottle of red wine for the first time in quite a long time. Usually I drink white. I think red suits a day of redemption.
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